Stars that Dance
by Sable Supernova
Summary: Drusilla say something that hits a nerve with Spike, so he finds something to do that cures his restlessness. OneShot.


Written for the One Prompt, Many Fandoms competition, run by Lamia of the Dark, for the prompt: New Horizons - write for fandoms you have not written for before. This is my Buffy entry.

Words: 810

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 **Stars That Dance**

"Spike, my pet, you're knee deep in the ocean trying to hold back the tide. Poor little William. But don't worry. I won't be jealous."

"What are you on about?" Spike asked, turning to face Drusilla. She stared at him, eyes wide with childish innocence.

"The stars, my darling. The stars are dancing. They're in twos, you know, but they keep changing their partners. Look," she told him, looking up at the ceiling of the crypt.

"We're inside, Dru, and it's daylight. You can't see the stars," he told her monotonously.

She twirled around with a grin in response and said, "I can when I close my eyes."

Spike said nothing and walked away.

He didn't want Drusilla to know, but something about her words stuck a chord within him. Often, he took her words as nonsense and gibberish. Today, he found her simply unnerving.

It didn't help that Angelus was back. He was great to have around, of course, but he was changing things. The whole dynamic of their society was altering, shifting to conform to the new norm. Even Spike's relationship with Druella was different.

Spike tried to drink about it. Drinking about problems was second nature to him; it was easy, normal, comfortable. He knew the cycle, he understood the process.

But Angelus didn't like it. If Angelus didn't like something, then it stopped happening. Spike was certain he'd stop the sun from shining if he could only find a way.

Sober and confined, Spike was not in the best of moods, and Drusilla's ramblings were not helping him.

He decided that the best thing he could do to calm his current state of irritation was pick a fight with someone, and the only person around worth picking a fight with was Angelus.

"So, Angelus, what does it feel like to know you boned the Slayer?" Spike asked, his tone conversational as he strolled into the private room of the brooding vampire.

"Well, it feels quite good to know that when I kill her, I'll have taken more than her life," Angelus replied, quick with his wit as he lay in his bed, hands behind his head.

"You sound quite certain you'll be killing her," Spike noted.

"Well, I will," Angelus said with a shrug. He turned to look at Spike, noting his unimpressed expression, and snorted through a laugh. "You didn't… you didn't think you'd be killing her, did you?" he asked in apparent disbelief.

"Well, not to rub it in, but I have killed more Slayers than you," Spike said with a shrug.

"Maybe. But you haven't killed one like Buffy," Angelus said, making to stand as he spoke and moving over to where Spike stood. "At least I can say I know her. I know the moves she'll make. I'll get there before you."

Spike lashed out, knocking an empty bottle of some sort off the table behind him. Watching it shatter gave him a sick satisfaction.

"You think I don't know her? She jeopardised my every move, terrorised my plans for a long time while you were playing happy families. She's mine, make no doubt about it," Spike told him, his anger rising.

"And how many times have you tried to kill her now? How many times has she slipped through your fingers? You've had your chances, Spike. It's my turn now. I won't fail."

Angelus' pointed comments were more than Spike could handle, and before he even knew what he was doing, he threw a punch at Angelus' face. Angelus saw it coming, of course, and stopped Spike's hand with ease.

"Don't make me put you on the naughty step," Angelus warned with condescension.

This time, Spike's attack met its target. Blows were exchanged with fervour, each man trying to better the other, despite the fact that they were nearly perfectly matched.

Spike got the upper hand first, throwing Angelus across the room to wind himself as his back hit a pillar. Spike was on him in an instant, hands around his throat, pushing him into the stone.

Angelus' hands wrapped around Spike's wrists, attempting to push them away. Their eyes met, four orbs filled with anger, two staring intently at two.

And suddenly, the anger faded away. With as much strength and passion as they had been fighting with, their lips crashed together like the taste of the other's lips was fresh, warm blood from a victim that had just given up screaming.

Hands were everywhere, searching, fighting against cotton and leather, nails biting into soft flesh. Their fight forgotten about, a war of dominance began anew with a teasing edge, as they both tried to take control of the situation.

As they backed away from the wall and fell onto the bed in a tangled mess of limbs, Angelus won over, taking Spike as his own. Spike did not complain.

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 **This is my first Buffy story, so please let me know what you thought! Thank you :)**


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